Tattered Tweeds
by CherriiMarina
Summary: A look into the final moments of Remus Lupin as he lay dying in the Battle of Hogwarts. Mentions of Remus/Sirius and Remus/Tonks, but no real shippy goodness.


He lay there in the darkness, waiting to die. Sweat was beading down the side of his face, and he raised an arm to dab it away with his sleeve, the pattern catching his eye. It was the same plain, nondescript brown tweed he'd been wearing for years, tattered and torn, just like his body in the wake of four hundred monthly transformations.

Four hundred. Huh. A quick bit of math confirmed his initial thought; his last transformation a couple of weeks earlier had been his four-hundredth. Four hundred times his body had broken itself, ripped its skin to shreds, smashed its bones to dust while simultaneously growing new ones – longer and stronger than those it wore away, and molded its muscles into a newer, sleeker form, more powerful than those which flexed and contracted inside his human skin. Four hundred times his hair had become thick and bristly, emerging from his new skin like a needle piercing cloth to cover his lean body in a light pelt of werewolf fur. Four hundred times had his eyes changed; morphing from the lovely brown eyes of his mother into hauntingly bright yellow, glittering like lanterns in the light of the full moon, and allowing him to see farther, longer ears allowing him to hear more, the snout which replaced his father's nose allowing him to smell all the scents which made up the night, and oh weren't they glorious?

The fecund dampness of the undergrowth in the forest, rich, dark, and fertile. The scent of the sap moving beneath the bark of the trees, bringing life and death through the tight channels that formed the wood. The pleasantly musky odors emitted by the deer and the squirrels, the centaur and the unicorns, the gnomes and the pixies. And the warm coppery tang that marked fresh blood. It almost turned his stomach to smell blood as a human, but as a werewolf – as _Moony_ – it was the most pungent, most flavorful, most powerful scent his canine nose could smell.

It was distasteful to think of, especially in his current state, while human, but as one who had tasted the warm, raw flesh of a fresh kill in wolf form, he could almost sympathize with members of the Vampire nation. Whatever else it was, blood was life, and he couldn't fault them for using its essence to sustain their lives.

He swiped again at the sweat on his brow, breath catching his chest as the muscles in his sides protested the movement. The silver knife had done its work well, and he could feel his life leaving him, running in poisoned rivulets down his sides to drip into the already blood-soaked earth surrounding the dark corner of stone which had fallen at some point from one of the castle's crenellations, and under which he was now laid. A sliver of moonlight caught the pattern of the fabric again, and as he gasped for breath, he thought his father would never have approved of it.

Lyall Lupin had been a man who favored grey in his apparel. Gunmetal grey suits with white pinstripes, pale grey shirts with bright pearly buttons, black leather belts and shoes, polished to gleam in the sun when he had to go out. If he was staying in, he had worn pale denim, the blue faded out so much that they had been as pale a grey as his dress shirts, and flannel shirts in various shades of grey, with a white undershirt beneath. He'd been a plain, simple man, his robes featuring much the same fabrics as his regular clothing, and by the time Remus had been old enough to remember him, full of sorrow for the lasting effects his words against Greyback had wrought.

As another fit of coughing overtook him, causing waves of pain to radiate out from his chest and the wounds Bellatrix had left behind, he wished for a moment that he could see his father and mother one more time before passing the veil, to let them know that he held them both blameless for his lot in life. Words were as powerful as blood, and Lyall had learned that well, paying the lesson's price with his son's health and wellbeing, the toll having been paid four hundred times, and well past the end of Lyall's own life. Hope, his mother, had tried her best to look past Remus' new disability after Greyback had bitten him, but after one incident where a young Remus had escaped his silver cage and nearly gotten to her before his father stopped him, she had been wary and distrustful, refusing to speak of his "furry little problem," as his school friends had called it.

Blinking another drop of sweat away, his arm no longer able to raise itself to do the job, the warm salty fluid was joined by a torrent of similar drops as he remembered that those friends, too, were waiting for him once his journey was done. James and Lily, Sirius, and even Peter was gone – they'd all left him behind; left him to trot along alone as always, as he'd been doing since he was twenty-one. Remus hoped that Harry would find whatever he needed and defeat Voldemort once and for all. He didn't know for what he, Ron, and Hermione had been searching all year, but as the ultimate battle was being fought all around him – now and then flashes of red, green, yellow, blue, and orange would speed past him, along the corners of his vision, and his ears would pick up the screams as spellwords were said, and incantations were chanted – he wished Harry the best of luck, knowing deep in his opened gut that he would no longer be around to see the conclusion and to congratulate him on a job well done.

He would never again see Dora or little Teddy, never again run his fingers through their hair or brush the pads of his thumbs over their eyelids as they slept. The tears fell harder and faster, and he turned to his side as shallow breaths, complicated by his harsh sobbing, caused his muscles to contract tightly, curling his body into a tight ball.

"Cheer up, Moony, old chap. Just think – soon it'll all be over. All the pain, the sorrow, and the blood will all be gone." Dark eyes fluttered upward, gaze locking onto the ghostly figure of Sirius Black, his best friend in all the world, and one-time lover. "And hey, once you're over here with us, you'll never have to wear tweed again!"

"Bug…ger …. off," he managed to wheeze out in between sobs.

"Now, Moony, is that any way to speak to your bestest pal and most loyal companion? I'm offended." The vision of Sirius turned his lips and nose up, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest as he pouted.

"I'm … dying … and you're … offended? The world … truly … is ending, Pads."

Inwardly, he thought the world could have sent him a better hallucination as he lay dying than Sirius being a clown.

"Would I be better, then?" The musical tones of her voice were as lovely as he remembered, her hair as long and red, and her eyes brighter green as they shone from her pale, translucent face.

He inhaled sharply, breath hitching in his chest before exhaling softly, "Lily."

"I couldn't not be here, Remus. You always were the best of us, you know."

"No… that was … you."

"I held onto my anger too long, Remus. Sixteen years on the other side made me realize all the things I could have changed; could have prevented, if only I'd learnt to forgive more easily." She smiled sadly down at him, coming closer and running her ghostly fingers over his cheek, smearing the dirt and blood together with his sweat and tears, and bringing a rush of coolness to his fevered skin.

"I … miss … you."

"Oh, I've missed you as well, Moondoggie. But it won't be long now, I think. I look forward to one of your back-breaking hugs. It's been far too long since I've had one."

His lips turned up slightly on one side, remembering her nickname for him, and picking her up and swinging her around and around as she laughed gaily, always happy to see him. He hadn't hugged anyone like that since she died, and as the smell of his own blood grew stronger in his nose, he wished he'd let go and allowed himself to give one of his Lily-hugs to Dora, just once. _She'd have loved it_ , he thought to himself.

"I would have, my love, but I never doubted your love for me, even without them."

His eyes shot open, and the visage had changed. In place of long red hair, there was short-cropped brown, the bright green eyes having morphed to a luminous brown, and the facial features had melted away from those of his childhood friend to his young wife.

"How?" His breathing had grown so labored that it was the only word he could utter.

"Dolohov got me, the bastard."

"So ….. sorry." The words eked out between gasping breaths and spates of coughing as his lungs filled with blood.

"There was nothing you could do about it, Remus, so don't worry yourself on your deathbed about me. It was quick as a green flash and I didn't feel a thing. I'm only sorry that, if you have to go, you must go in this way instead of the way I did." Like Lily before her, Tonks knelt before him and drifted her fingers over his cheek and through the hair over his ears and down to his neck.

"Teddy," he croaked out.

"He'll be fine with my mum, darling. Don't worry for him." Her soft voice, murmuring close to his ear, gave him strength, as did the knowledge that Andromeda would take care of their son. She'd done a marvelous job raising Tonks, and she would be just as amazing with Teddy – and hopefully his godfather would be around as well, assuming he made it through the night's battle.

Fresh tears rolled over his nose and down his cheek to meet the mud as he sent a prayer heavenward for Harry.

And then there were no more tears to cry, no more air in his lungs as the blood took over. Slowly, as he tried in vain to inhale and feed oxygen to his starving body, small choking noises escaping the darkness of the place where he'd fallen, black spots began to overtake his vision, slowly causing Tonks' face to fade away into the growing blackness until with a final whump, his heart stopped and his chest stilled.

That was the moment that Remus John Lupin died.

* * *

Seconds later, his eyes opened, and his lungs filled with air for the first time in what seemed like hours, the air crisp and clean and perfect, stark whiteness all around, shapeless and empty. He looked down at himself, the only thing he could see in the bright white nothingness, and was unembarrassed to find himself naked, all the marks and scars of his long life of pain and strife wiped away, leaving behind skin without blemish in a way he had never seen it before.

He stretched out his fingers and marveled at their seamless perfection, the mark from where Sirius had bitten too deeply into his palm in a moment of passion gone, the deep slashing gash in his shoulder was no more, the evidence of Greyback's attack finally erased from existence.

"Welcome to the peace, Remus." Tonks' voice came from behind him, and he spun around, drinking in the sight of her body the way the gods had intended it. She stood taller, more proud, and confident in every step, her clumsiness having melted away with her flesh when she died at the end of Dolohov's wand. The short strands of her brown hair waved in an unfelt breeze as she walked closer, and a huge smile broke across his face.

He swept forward, sprinting the last of the distance between them, and did as he had so wished to do when he'd spoken with Lily. Together, they whirled around and around and around, their laughter raucous and full in the absence of all pain and sorrow. Finally, they stopped spinning and stood face to face, foreheads pressed together with their eyes closed, hands roaming eagerly over each other's bodies.

"Oy, is that not the palest arse you've seen in the afterlife, Prongs?"

"It just may be, Monsieur Padfoot."

"You two stop picking on him. He's only just arrived, and…" Lily's voice trailed off, as though she was unable to finish what she was going to say.

"I know, Lils. But I wouldn't be me if I didn't at least try to take the piss out of him, would I?"

Remus' eyes opened and as he gazed into the dark pools in front of him, he could feel her acceptance of what he was about to do.

"I love you, always," he whispered to her, nuzzling his nose against hers for a brief second before spinning around on his heel and rushing toward his friends, bypassing James, standing with his arm around Lily's shoulder, and reaching his arms out to Sirius, pulling his first love flush to his body, one arm around his back and the other cradling the back of his head as their lips crashed together, tongues tangling furiously, making up for years of lost time and opportunity in one long, passionate kiss.

Finally they parted, fingers and hands caressing faces and sliding down to explore long-lost home territory. "Gods, I've missed you, Pads."

"I've missed you, too, Remus, more than I can tell you." Sirius tilted his head down and pressed one final kiss to Remus' forehead before whispering, "But you might want to think about clothes soon. I can handle sharing with Dora if need be, or … well, never mind that, but I don't think I could stand to share you with James or Lily, so let's not give them any bright ideas, yeah?"

Before he had time to think about it, Remus found himself clothed in his comfortable home clothes – faded denim, a washed out flannel shirt over a gleaming white undershirt, and worn leather boots, just the kind of casual at-home clothing his father would have worn.

"Oh, thank Merlin. If I'd had to stare at that pasty arse a moment longer while the lovebirds reacquainted their tonsils with each other, I was getting tempted to go join in." James' voice boomed in the emptiness, met with laughter from all present.

He nestled himself in the warmth of Sirius' embrace and held out his free arm, tucking Tonks into the warmth of his own, and the three of them stood there, united in their love of each other, and talked with James and Lily for a bit, before the beauty and wonder of the moment was parted but a sharp tugging at his heart.

"It's time then, is it?" Lily's voice was soft and sad.

"Time for what?"

"For Harry. He's calling us, or he's about to."

"Harry?"

"Yes, he has the stone, and he's about to use it."

Around him, free and easy clothing was being morphed into the things Harry was used to seeing them wear, either in person or from photos, and facial features began changing, scars reappearing, and he and Sirius seemed to age fifteen years to match how Harry remembered them. His casual denims and flannel changed until he was once again back in his tattered tweeds, the thick scar back on his shoulder, and the long claw-lines across his face back in place.

Tonks stepped back, unchanged, and Remus realized that she wasn't being called with them.

"I love you, Remus. Never forget that."

"I never will. I love you, too. I'll be back soon."

Sirius' hand was outstretched, waiting for his own, and he clasped it tightly with his right, his left, reaching for Lily's free one. Together they walked, James on Lily's other side, and soon the four Marauders disappeared, going to give the last comfort they could to Harry as he walked alone through the forest to his death and subsequent resurrection.

Later, after the battle was over, and the dawn began breaking over the destruction and rubble littering the grounds of Hogwarts, five ethereal figures stood along the top of the tallest standing tower and watched as the deep reds and pinks and oranges spread their way over the Black Lake. As before, Remus was nestled into Sirius' side, Tonks was nestled into his, with James on her other side, one arm slung loosely around her shoulders with the other wrapped around Lily's, their hands clasped tightly together where his rested on her chest.

"Well done, Harry. Well done."

Wandering the grounds below, Hermione Granger looked up and thought she saw them all standing there for a moment, wide, contented smiles on their faces as they surveyed the scene before they winked out as one.

* * *

I know some of you will be disappointed to see this rather than a SWTT update, but I wrote this forever ago and I thought I had posted it, but apparently never did, so while it's not what you're really wanting, maybe this will do until I can finish up other things I'm working on.

Cheers.


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